


He Makes Me

by swishydetective



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Professors, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Bitchy Aziraphale, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Enemies to Lovers, Ficlet, Good Omens Fic Week 2019, Hand Jobs, M/M, Office Sex, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 16:16:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20509865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swishydetective/pseuds/swishydetective
Summary: When Professor Crowley arrives at the University, Professor Fell is everything but pleased. Maybe they should just listen to their students and bone to take the edge off.





	He Makes Me

**Author's Note:**

> Teachers AU Prompt for the Good Omens fic week 2019! 
> 
> What can I say, hot professor rivalry got me going. 
> 
> Enjoy ya filthy animals ;) x

Professor Crowley was the talk of the town, well really I should say campus. The newcomer’s nonchalant walk and his fiery hair made everyone swoon. He was a bit distant but everyone could tell there was a sweetheart underneath the tough, all-black-clad surface. He taught History of Fashion and his students were all very excited, as he had quite the reputation. The only person who was not very fond of the new professor was the head of the literature department, Dr. Ezra Fell, Aziraphale for the intimates, a running joke because of his religious upbringing. He was the person every student could count on to give a thorough, fair and deeply researched class. He was unhappy with the newcomer, as I was saying, because it meant the literature department endured even more cuts. He was usually fighting with the science professors, so the fact that an arts program was taking research money and interest from the university away felt even more like a betrayal. 

One day, as he was sipping a scalding mocha in the professor’s lounge, Aziraphale had the displeasure of meeting Crowley. The tall, dark and handsome man swaggered to the table where Aziraphale was sitting. 

“Hi, I don’t think we’ve met, the name’s Anthony J. Crowley, but just call me Crowley,” he greeted him, extending a ring-adorned hand towards him. 

“I know who you are,” replied the literature professor coldly. 

Crowley frowned, dropping his hand by his side. 

“I’m professor Fell, literature.” 

“Ah, that explains that,” he smirked, gesturing at Aziraphale. 

“I beg your pardon?

-I just mean your higher-than-thou, frankly icy greeting. I’m sorry about the fundings, truly. I know how the arts are important and I think it’s a crime that they would take away from any program instead of looking for donors.” 

Aziraphale warmed up a little. 

“You’re right.” 

“Well, I’ll let you enjoy your coffee, handsome, see you later.” 

Crowley took the lunch he came for from the refrigerator and left, leaving Aziraphale feeling like a bit of an arse. He felt his cheeks burn, whether it was from the compliment or the embarrassment, he was not sure. 

As the leaves outside turned a bright orange, the students started noticing the tension between the two professors. Crowley was flashy and showy and Aziraphale had always preferred a sensible approach to higher education. Soon enough, some young troublemakers started spreading rumours about how they were “boning” and were hiding it behind the false conflict. The professors were summoned to HR to have a talk about professional boundaries. Aziraphale was humiliated and Crowley, who had thought it hilarious that his students would come up with such stories, didn’t like the idea of putting his career in jeopardy. 

As they left the stuffy office, they walked back to the arts department in total silence. 

“It wasn’t that bad, it could’ve been worse-” began Crowley.

“IT WASN’T THAT BAD?” Aziraphale pushed Crowley against the concrete wall next to them, gripping his jacket lapel. “I WAS HUMILIATED! DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD I’VE WORKED TO KEEP MY REPUTATION CLEAN?” 

Crowley was staring at him with his golden-hazel eyes wide open. Their noses were touching and they were breathing heavy against each other. Aziraphale was fuming, but when Crowley’s eyes fell to his lips, he couldn’t help but feel a tingling sensation in his middle. Given that they were about the same height this way, it would’ve been so easy to give in… Aziraphale’s eyes fell down to the slightly parted lips of the younger professor. 

A student who was probably late for his last class saw them and whistled suggestively, which broke the pair apart immediately. They went their separate ways and stopped talking for a few weeks, which made the students lose interest. The semester went smoothly until it was finals week and Crowley got assigned to Aziraphale to help grade his papers. Locked in a tiny office with no windows, the two rivals tried their best to remain civilised. Crowley was walking on eggshells since their last altercation was mostly his fault, not that he would ever admit that out loud. 

“I just wanted to say-

-If this is about what happened, I’d rather not have your snide comments. 

-Jesus, Aziraphale! I can’t place a word with you!” Crowley got up from his seat, throwing his hands about dramatically. 

Aziraphale got up too, already feeling the heat rising. 

“You know what you are? You’re a snob, Aziraphale. You have all these preconceived notions about people and you’re impossible to work with! I never did anything to you, I only tried to be friendly and look at us! Every damn time we see each other we’re at each other’s throats! 

-Well it’s certainly not my fault that you waltzed in here, all dark and mysterious and so fun, and oh, look at me, I’m professor Crowley and everyone loves me! What have you done to deserve instant respect? NOTHING!” 

Aziraphale had gotten increasingly closer to Crowley, his nose pointing up so their eyes were levelled and his hand poking his chest accusingly. 

“Well MAYBE if you weren’t such a BITCH people would-” 

Aziraphale interrupted Crowley’s rant, abruptly pulling him in for a kiss. Their mouths clashed against one another, they bit and pulled at each other’s lips. Aziraphale pushed Crowley against the wall, pushing his knee up to the younger teacher’s groin. An angry moan escaped his lips at the contact, and he pulled at the white-blonde hair as retaliation. The two men were grinding against each other, panting heavily. 

Crowley’s hand flew from the unkempt curls to Aziraphale’s belt buckle, fondling about. He mimicked the gesture, unzipping the skin-tight black trousers through which he could feel Crowley’s erection. He undid the white-button up as Aziraphale started making his way on his jawline, leaving bitemarks. Half undressed, their lips swollen from the rough kisses, Crowley’s hand slid inside Aziraphale’s pants, slicking him up and down. Aziraphale bit at Crowley’s neck to stop from moaning. Aziraphale’s hands pulled Crowley’s pants down to the floor, grabbing his arse. 

“Such- Ah- Tight arse.” 

Crowley kissed him to shut him up, tongue slipping against his, his hand still going up and down Aziraphale’s length. 

They parted as Crowley whispered into Aziraphale’s ear that he kept a condom in his wallet. 

“That’s so irresponsible, it could get pierced.” 

“Shut the fuck up and take it,” hissed Crowley. 

He needn’t be told twice. He found the wallet and tore the packaging quickly. He rolled it down his erection and then his hands found Crowley’s thighs, lifting him up against the wall. Crowley’s legs wrapped around the professor’s hips, his socked feet resting against his bare rear. His hands were running through the feathery blonde hair, pulling at it ever so often. Even if this had been rough and quick, Aziraphale didn’t want to hurt Crowley so he slipped one finger inside him, preparing him slowly. He teased him with his fingers until Crowley’s thighs were shaking around him. He finally pulled his fingers out and replaced them with his cock, slowly, slowly. The rhythm was steady and Crowley made little noises that drove Aziraphale completely mad. He picked up the pace, Crowley’s cheeks clapping against his exposed thighs. They were panting into each other’s necks, sloppily kissing from time to time. Crowley started to moan much too loudly and Aziraphale put a hand over his mouth, looking straight into his eyes as he rolled his hips into him. Crowley whined, driven over the edge, and came on their exposed stomachs. Aziraphale felt himself getting closer and closer. Crowley pulled at his hair again, eyes hooded and tired from his orgasm. It finished off Aziraphale, who felt his arms and legs shake from exhaustion. They fell against the wall, entangled in each other, sticky with their own sweat and cum. 

“Wow,” Crowley whispered, mouth finally free, “I should’ve called you a bitch much sooner.” 

They laughed together for the first time, the tension dissipated for good. 


End file.
